


Easy

by kisses_and_cookies



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Inspired by a Camila Cabello Song, M/M, No Dialogue, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 12:20:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21197567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kisses_and_cookies/pseuds/kisses_and_cookies
Summary: I have never loved myself.And despite all these things I hate about myself, Peter still loves me.I used to think I was hard to love, but Peter makes it look so easy.





	Easy

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! This was inspired by the song Easy by Camila Cabello. It's one of my favorite songs of hers, if you haven't listened to it, you should <3

I have never loved myself. And that lack of love has grown and grown until I’ve come to hate myself, leaving no room to have any form of love. It started as a question of why someone would leave me after my dad left and continued to dive deeper into self hatred from there. He wasn’t the only person to leave and I’m sure he won’t be the last. Every single person that has walked out of my life has left me a little worse for wear. Each person adding to the list of things I hate myself for until I no longer knew what it was like to even like myself. If they couldn’t love me why should I love myself and who would ever love me in the future?

Then came Peter, sweeping into my life like a whirlwind and it’s never been the same since. He stole my heart, distracting me with soft sweaters and pretty smiles while he reached in and took it right out of my chest. And if he breaks it, still, I would pick up the pieces and give them back to him. And when he took my heart, he dragged out every ounce of self hatred I have for myself, laying it out for the both of us to see.

I hate that I can be indecisive, can never decide on something as simple as a restaurant for dinner. I don’t like making decisions in case I make the wrong one and Peter leaves. I hate that I overthink everything, until I ruin every good thing that ever happens to me. I hate that I work so much, to the point that it becomes destructive. Because if I’m not being useful who would want me around? I can be way over protective of Peter, trying to protect him from anything and everything that might hurt him. And I know it annoys him because he’s Spider-Man and he doesn’t need me to protect him. I’m clingy and I’m sure it comes off as desperate because I know at some point Peter will leave and I want to have him while I still can. Because he has my whole heart and I’m terrified that one day he’s going to break it into a million pieces.

And despite all these things I hate about myself, Peter still loves me.

I hate that there are scars on my knuckle, one too many fights when I was younger. The calluses on my fingers are rough and show the many hours I’ve spent working. There are scars from burns and cuts on my hands, exposing how many times I was careless. I wish they would disappear. I hate that Peter is so fit and I’m not. Hating the extra layer of fat on my stomach, no matter how small it is, is basically second nature at this point. And I hate the barely there stretch makes on my thighs, to me, they’re like deep canyons cutting their way through skin that shouldn’t look like this. 

And despite all of these things, Peter still tells me I’m beautiful.

Peter makes me see that there are things about myself to love, that I’m not all bad.

He tells me that he doesn’t mind that I’m indecisive. He made a game up to help me choose what to do on date night, so I don’t stress about it. He gives me 5 choices, I pick 2 and then he chooses one of them. I love it, it makes me feel less anxious about making the wrong decision. Peter sees when I’m overthinking and helps me stop. When I’ve come up with every thing I know will go wrong, Peter’s there to show me all the good that can happen. He makes me see the world in a more positive way and I am happier for it. Peter tells me that he loves that I’m hardworking, that I work for what I want. He tells me there’s nothing wrong with that, but he’s always there to remind me that working past the point of exhaustion isn’t healthy. He kisses me and drags me off to bed, reminding me that he’ll always want me around, no matter what. He tells me that he loves that I try to protect him, that it’s nice to have someone try to protect him after spending so much time protecting others. He likes that I don’t just assume that he doesn’t need or want help. Peter promised that I’m not clingy when I apologized about it. He said he liked that I’m always close to him, touching him in some way. He likes the reminder that I’m there, that I’m safe.

He tells me everyday that he loves every part of me.

He brushes his fingers over my knuckles and tells me that each scar on my knuckles is a story he wants to hear and that he loves them because they show him that I can protect myself. Seeing them lets him know that even in this dangerous world, I’ve got a fighting chance of making it. He tells me that he loves the calluses on my fingers, loves the way they feel dragging across his skin. He says the touch is so distinctly mine that his body wishes for it even when I’m not there. He kisses the scars on my hands, tells me that they’re there because I work hard and challenge myself with new things. He runs his hands along my stomach, over my sides and tells me that he loves my stomach, the way it feels under his touch.

He tells me everyday how lucky he is to have someone as beautiful as me.

And he tells me he loves parts of me that I haven’t even thought to hate. He tells me that I’m kind, generous, and strong willed. He’ll nose at my neck and whisper into my jaw that he loves my neck, my hips, that they fit perfectly in his hands, and the curve of my back. He kisses my thighs until I’ve forgotten everything I thought I hated.

I used to think I was hard to love, but Peter makes it look so easy that I don’t remember why it was ever difficult to love myself.


End file.
